


Empty Stomach

by Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate



Series: Moving Forward [1]
Category: Don't Hug Me I'm Scared (Webseries)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Cannibalism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Panic Attacks, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-29 16:40:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15077345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate/pseuds/Vanilla_Owns_Chocolate
Summary: After escaping the simulation and reuniting, the Puppet Trio celebrate by having dinner together. Yellow Guy, for some reason, refuses to eat his food.





	Empty Stomach

It was a rainy day when Red found them, huddling under a bunch of trees to keep themselves dry. Of course, as soon as they saw him, they rushed over and practically tackled him with tearful hugs, sobbing in relief. Despite his best efforts, the monster found himself crying as well.

He immediately took them home, as they told him that they had no shelter or place to live, and he knew from his own experience how difficult it was to scrape up enough money to find somewhere to stay, especially in the city. The amount of benches he had slept on and dumpsters he had dived through for food were not particularly fond memories for Red, and he didn't want his friends to experience the same hopelessness that he had when he first escaped the simulation.

When he brought them back to his apartment, he could still hear them crying as he rummaged through the kitchen for something to prepare for dinner. Surely, they must have been hungry; he didn't know how long it had been since their escape. Still, he hated to leave them alone, even if he was only in the next room.

He settled on plain old spaghetti, as it was Yellow's favorite food and a running joke for Duck to point out how similar Red was to the dish. He figured that maybe the nostalgia would help lighten the mood while they caught up.

As he waited for the water to boil, he sat down in the living room with his friends, who had stopped crying, opting instead to revert to some occasional sniffles. Red pulled them close, mumbling reassurances, telling them that they were all together now and nothing could break them apart. He didn't think he did a good job at comforting them (he had always been somewhat lacking in that regard), but they seemed to be fine with it, returning his hug with their own.

After a while, he had to go back to the kitchen to resume cooking, but he kept a close eye on them as he put the noodles in the water and waited for them to go soft. Regrettably, he was out of sauce, but he was sure that his friends would just be happy to get something in their stomachs, especially Yellow. The poor boy looked like he hadn't eaten anything in days.

When the spaghetti was ready, they all sat down at the table. Duck had somewhat reverted back to his usual talkative self, though his voice trembled as he spoke.

"I say," he remarked, trying to smile, "it really is good to have a proper meal for once. It has been too long since we've eaten together as a family."

Yellow didn't say anything. In fact, he seemed to pale when Red presented him with the pasta, a food that he normally loved to eat in their _old_ lives. He just stared at it, terror and disbelief in his eyes.

Red was unsure how to start the conversation; talking to people had never really been his forte. Fortunately for him, Duck was never content to let awkward silence hang for long, even if his words sounded a bit forced.

"This is wonderful," the bird said after swallowing a bite of spaghetti, "simply wonderful. Oh, it feels just like old times, right, Yellow?"

The child was still silent, unable to tear his frightened gaze away from his full plate. That was unusual, Red noted. Usually, he would have been half done by now.

"Yellow?" Duck tried again, this time catching the human's attention. He jumped, an almost animalistic panic in his eyes when he looked at his friend. He kept looking back and forth between the meal and the bird, tears welling up in his eyes.

"What's wrong?" Red asked, finally speaking up.

"I..." Yellow's mouth worked, trying to produce words that wouldn't come out. At last, he said, "I'm not hungry."

Duck shot him a sympathetic look, and Red felt like he was missing something. What had happened in the simulation while he was gone?

"They can't hurt you anymore," Duck said, reaching a feathered hand over to his friend's shoulder, "we're free now."

"It's not that," Yellow wheezed, flinching away from Duck's hand. He looked at it as if it were some kind of deadly weapon before screwing his eyes shut. "I just don't want it."

Red gave Duck a questioning glance, and the bird sighed apologetically. "During...June 19th, we got another 'lesson' after you disappeared."

All of a sudden, Yellow pressed his hands over his ears. "No! No!"

"It was about food. I was...taken away before the lesson was completed, but..." Duck spoke quietly so as not to disturb the crying child, but he seemed to shudder upon recalling the unpleasant memories of the lesson. "I don't know what happened after that."

Red looked over at Yellow, eyes wide. The human was sobbing, choosing to move his hands over his eyes instead of his ears. "I don't want it," he cried, tears leaking through his fingers, "I don't want it, I don't want it!"

Red wasn't sure what to do. Normally, when Yellow was hurt or sad, a simple hug or a bandage would make everything all better, but this was nothing like the past. This was new, and it concerned a matter that he hadn't been around to confront personally. He was completely and totally in the dark.

"You...you don't have to eat it," the monster stupidly told him, instantly kicking himself. Yellow had to eat; he was _emaciated._ But if being presented with a plate of his favorite food drove him to tears, how would he be able to stomach anything else?

Duck, always the more affectionate one, got up and took a step closer to his friend. "It's okay," he reassured him, "nobody's going to hurt you."

But Yellow turned toward him violently, his pupils shrunken. "Don't!" he shouted, nearly stumbling out of his chair in an attempt to get away. "Go away!"

Duck turned to Red helplessly. Sighing, the monster stood up from his own seat, but didn't inch closer for fear of causing further distress. Instead, he peered over at the young boy, who was now mumbling apologies over and over again.

"You don't have to be sorry for anything," Duck attempted.

"But I hurt you!" Yellow exclaimed, trembling. "I hurt you and I didn't mean to and I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so, so sorry-"

Finally, Red snapped back to his senses. "That's enough," he said firmly, getting everybody's attention. Yellow looked up at him as if he had forgotten he was there in the first place. "Yellow, whatever you did on June 19th was _not you._ It was Roy messing with us. We were being controlled by a machine. It's not your fault."

The boy sniffled again, barely restraining more sobs. "But-"

Red interrupted him by sitting down next to him. "It's not your fault," he repeated, "none of us were ourselves."

Yellow swallowed back another cry, wrapping his arms over his knees. He allowed his friends to inch closer to him, but he didn't look up from the floor.

"I don't know how you hurt me," Duck said cautiously, "but I'm fine now. All of us are fine. We escaped."

The child remained unresponsive, but he did not object when his friends wrapped him in a hug. He closed his eyes again, allowing himself to relax slightly. Their presence grounded him somewhat, reminding him that he was really _there_ and _alive._

When they all broke away, they looked up at the now-cold plate of spaghetti on the table, just as untouched as before. "Do you want me to heat it up?" Red asked.

"...Okay," Yellow conceded shakily, "but I think I'll just have a little, if that's okay."

"A little is better than nothing!" Duck reasoned with a satisfied nod.

Needless to say, the plate was empty by the end of the evening.


End file.
